Who loves Tapas?

Before I go into the details of our recent road trip to Barcelona, I feel the need to comment on Olympic television coverage from this side of the channel. Admittedly, this week I have been exposed to some of the more obscure sports. At least more so than I might have had I been parking my butt in front of a North American television. As it turns out, obscurity is a relative definition as archery, fencing, judo, and handball are of great interest to French viewers, if airtime can be any sort of measure. Also, all these sports may be getting similar exposure back home. I have no way of knowing. Still, I’m pretty sure ladies field hockey and white water kayaking (really? An Olympic sport? Who knew?) aren’t front and center on CBC or CTV, or even ESPN. I like to think this is yet another opportunity to broaden my horizons.

As part of our ‘keeping it close to home’ strategy, and considering Perri’s friend Samantha was visiting from Canada, we looked for a sensible driving-distance destination and settled happily on Barcelona.  To break up the long drive, Ann managed to find a way to spend three or four hours in the Pyrenees, participating in something called “canyoning”. That’s right, the noun ‘canyon’ has been turned into a verb. No one told me of this adjustment to the English language, but there you go. Imagine combining hiking, rock climbing, and white-water rafting, without the raft, and you’ve pretty much got it. We started by gearing up with wet suits and harnesses, which in retrospect was a good idea since the water temperature was somewhere between ‘numbing’ and ‘bone-chilling’ (it made me a little homesick). 

Staring death in the face... and not blinking.

Yes, we paid to do this.

In a nutshell, we spent three or fours hours sloshing along, sliding, swimming, rappelling, zip-lining, and just jumping off small cliffs into water of suspect depth. Other than a few minor tailbone bruises and a couple of fresh-water sinus flushes, we survived intact.

Just before the jump.

Look closely - someone is halfway down that waterfall.

One quick stop at the monastery at Montserrat, where somebody decided you’ve got to get high in order to be close to heaven. Before I get comments about condoning drug use, I’m talking about altitude. The Benedictine abbey was built at the top of a very odd looking mountain (roughly 4000 feet above sea level) about 1000 years ago. The site also hosts one of the ‘black Madonnas’, a wood carving of the Virgin Mary, originally thought to be brought from Jerusalem in the first or second centuries (carbon dating by scientists of suspect faith pegs its vintage at 12^th century). It was worth the brief visit, but I can’t see anyone like me wanting to spend more than a few hours there (italics added by Ann).

Part of the monastery- late in the day.

As an aside, I neglected to bring my camera on this trip, so I relied heavily on inferior but adequate equipment (perhaps I could have worded that better). Still, many of the shots worked out ok.

Barcelona was different from most of the other European cities I’ve visited. The core of the city had wide, well-treed streets, and striking architectural variation, even if you don’t include the Gaudi creations. The waterfront was a happenin’ place, and there were no lack of eating establishments (important for me). That Barcelona is in Catalonia adds to its character. Catalan is the language of the locals and they have no issues with letting you know. Ann stopped in shop for directions and asked the obviously Spanish woman working there if she spoke English, to which she replied “Not really, but I have a little Spanish”.

 Flash Mob - Barcelona style.

Funky Buildings everywhere.

We wandered around for a couple of days, taking in the usual stuff: big old church, buried Roman ruins, restaurants, etc.. The creations of Antoni Gaudi proved to be the coolest part of the trip. We toured the Geull Palace, Park Guell, and of course, the Segrada Familia, and they all had a high WOW factor. I don’t know what Gaudi was smoking, but somehow he made it work. I think he might have a bit of trouble getting financing in this day and age, but I'm glad someone, specifically his rich benefactor Eusebi Guell, ponied up over a century ago. Barcelona should go on everyone’s list.

Roof of Guell Palace

Ann at Guell Park

Ann with her new boyfriend

Tourists, and me. 

This might surprise everyone but there were gobs of tourists from everywhere. After listening to a mishmash of international tongues, I realized Arcachon is a very regional tourist destination, compared to Barcelona’s truly international flavor. That being said, I kept asking and answering questions using French, even though I knew the words in Spanish. Strange because I never do that in France.

Flinstones get religion.

This thing could be alive.

I was impressed with how bright this place was.

Too cool. Way too cool for a church.

Next stop: Morocco (I won’t forget my camera, probably).